five times jake drunk texts amy and one time she does
by dorkygirl
Summary: In which Jake texts Amy mostly stupid, occasionally funny, sometimes sweet, and never sober things in the middle of the night (and she always ends up smiling).


i.

The first time it ever happens, it's two in the morning. She keeps her phone off silent at night, just in case, and she's a light sleeper anyway, so when she hears the _ding ding_ of her cell phone, she jolts up and blindly gropes for her cell phone.

From: Jake Peralta  
>2:05 AM<br>wazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzup :P

She rolls her eyes and shoves it under her other pillow to muffle the sound. It's one month into their partnership, and he's been driving her up the wall. He's immature, he likes to make snarky comments about her organization skills, and she's pretty sure he eats candy for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But, if she's going to make captain one day, talking about surviving years (she shivers) as the partner of the most immature man-child detective in all of America will definitely make a good "Obstacles I've Overcome" speech.

She turns back onto her other side, yanking her grandmother's quilt up to her chin, and tries to drift off to sleep.

_Ding ding_.

"Don't do it, Santiago," she whispers into the night, even as the thought of leaving a text unread was driving her crazy. Just thinking about seeing that red circled "1" on the Messages icon... She shivers.

_Ding ding_.

That's 2.

"Go to sleep, Amy. Go to sleep."

_Ding ding. Ding ding. Ding Ding._

5.

"Fucking Peralta," she mutters as she fishes her phone from under the pillow and squints against the bright light.

From: Jake Peralta  
>2:07 AM<br>hey hey hey hey wazzzzzzzzzzzup

From Jake Peralta  
>2:08 AM<br>did you know you can spell santa with your name that's halarious

From: Jake Peralta  
>2:09 AM<br>you shulda come out with us 2nite let lppse and het frunk

From: Jake Peralta  
>2:09 AM<br>it wpuld be fun... boyles not that bad we swear and rosa is rosa but you knpw shes wTCHING me as i type

From: Jake Peralta  
>2:09 AM<br>next time amy next time we will suxeed in gettin you druuuuuuuuuuuuunk

Exasperated and exhausted, she sends a quick text.

From: Amy Santiago  
>2:09 AM<br>Stop texting me.

_Ding ding._

From: Jake Peralta  
>2:10 AM<br>YOUR AWAKE THIS IS GRAT NEWS

From: Amy Santiago  
>2:11 AM<br>Good night, Peralta.

From: Jake Peralta  
>2:12 AM<br>Ooh i can feel the tension from over here

Sighing, she switches her phone to silent and tosses it towards the foot of her bed. She rolls over onto her side, deciding she can't go to sleep just yet, and turns on the television to watch Mythbusters reruns until she falls asleep.

She wakes up at 8:00 AM, and gets ready to go for a jog and checks her phone to make sure nobody died over the night.

Surprisingly, there's only one text from Jake Peralta, not the five thousand she was expecting.

From: Jake Peralta  
>4:30 AM<br>your pretty

She doesn't want to, but she feels the corner of her mouth tug up. She grabs her headphones and plugs them into her phone, and rushes out the door.

She jogs and does not think of drunk, grammar mistake-filled compliments via text and stupid partners with big mouths and dirty sneakers.

Nope.

ii.

Another time it happens, she's at her mother's house after her brother's wedding. All of her family is still up and awake, and more than half of them are drunk off their asses, keeping the house loud with laughter and friendly arguments.

She's on the couch, drinking champagne and listening to Christina, Javier's wife, and Desiree, Carlos' girlfriend, gossip about God-knows-what when she hears her phone go _ding ding_ in her clutch. Grateful for any excuse to get out of this _inane_ conversation, she excuses herself, but neither of them notice.

She hides out in her old room, still decorated pink and white and with cop posters on the wall and flops onto her old bed.

From: Jake Peralta  
>1:34 AM<br>como fue el boda?

From: Amy Santiago  
>1:35 AM<br>How do you know how to say it in spanish?

From: Jake Peralta  
>1:36 AM<br>uh we live in nyc i think we're all supposed to knpw sum espanol

She gets another chime at the same time.

From: Rosa Diaz  
>1:36 AM<br>he texted me right now asking me how to say "how was the wedding" in spanish. i assume this is your fault. stop.

She sighs and rolls her eyes, texting Jake.

From: Amy Santiago  
>1:37 AM<br>Rosa ratted you out. Wedding was fine.

From: Jake Peralta  
>1:38 AM<br>jus fine? no fights, no drunk uncles no blood? that's straight up boring

From: Amy Santiago  
>1:40 AM<br>It was fine. Why are you texting me?

From: Jake Peralta  
>1:42 AM<br>your coming back soon rite cuz boyle as my parnter is driving me isnane in the membrane and im drinking my srorows rigt now

From: Amy Santiago  
>1:45 AM<br>He's not that bad.

From: Jake Peralta  
>1:46 AM<br>! he keeps signing show tunes on steakoutts and insisits we sing nursery rhymes in rounds. come backkkkkkkkk

She snorts to herself, because she can definitely picture it all happening in her head. She hadn't been gone for too long, and she had only requested a couple extra days off because Alex was her favorite and closest brother, and she adored Jenna, his wife, who had asked her to be a bridesmaid. She was happy to be a part of the wedding, and well, if it meant two extra days away from Peralta, that was just icing on the cake.

From: Amy Santiago  
>1:50 AM<br>I'll be back Monday. Go to sleep.

From: Jake Peralta  
>1:51 AM<br>Nevvvvvvveeeeeerr

Gabriella, Jamie's wife, knocks on her door just then.

"Amy! Stop hiding out here. We're about to play Twister!"

"Yay," Amy musters up fake enthusiasm. She looks down at the phone in her hands. Who would have thought there'd be a point in the evening where she'd rather sit in her childhood bedroom and text _Jake Peralta_ than do anything else.

She begrudgingly gets off her bed and sends Jake a quick text.

From: Amy Santiago  
>1:55 AM<br>Gotta go. Good night.

She shoves it back into her clutch, and heads downstairs, trying to think of ways to get out of playing Twister with her family.

Her phone is forgotten about until the next morning, when she's curled up in her childhood bed, wincing at the pain in her thighs and arms. She considered herself to be in great shape, but one hour of Twister with a bunch of drunk relatives was crossing the line.

She reaches out for her phone to check the time, and is surprised to see one unread text message.

From: Jake Peralta  
>3:21 AM<br>still drinkin and i blame uou. miss you plz come back

"Why are you smiling? It's... God, Amy, it's only 9:30 in the morning. Let a girl sleep!"

Startled, she turns and looks down at the mop of brown curly hair on her floor. She forgot she let Desiree sleep on her floor when Twister was over. Desiree had participated in the uh, _adult_ version of Twister, and had gone to bed way after Amy did.

"I wasn't smiling, Desiree."

"I can like hear your smile. It's annoying. Stop."

With that, Desiree flops over and pulls the pillow over her head.

"I know someone at work you'd get along with great," Amy mutters to the pillow.

She looks down at her phone, feels that stupid corner of her mouth tug up, then falls back onto her bed.

She needs to start dating if badly misspelled text messages from childish colleagues were making her smile.

iii.

She's at home on a Friday night, eating pasta and drinking wine, watching a marathon of _How It's Made_, when her phone goes off.

When she sees Jake's name on her screen, she frowns. It's not even 11:00 and he rarely texts her at night unless he's drunk or in the process of getting drunk.

From: Jake Peralta  
>10:36 PM<br>call me in five mins plz iou one

She's intrigued. She lets herself daydream for two minutes trying to figure out what she could make Peralta do for her. Paperwork? Nah, he'd mess that up right away, and she would do it all over again (which would probably be his intention). Trade day offs? Make him shut up for 24 whole hours? She could try to force him to eat something healthy because as much as he wants to make candy burritos a thing, it's never going to be a thing.

From: Jake Peralta  
>10:40 PM<br>FOCUS SANTIAGO, CALL ME IN ONE MINUTE.

It's the caps and the punctuation that get her, so she waits precisely one minute, and dials him, kind of dying to know what the hell is going on.

"Hello?"

"What is-"

"Aunt Marie! Oh my gosh, how are you?"

Amy sighs when she realizes what happened. She's his get out of jail free card.

"Jake."

"What happened to Uncle Bob? Oh my God," and to his credit he's doing a good job from this end of the conversation of faking sympathy. "Which hospital?"

"You're a terrible person."

"I'll be right there. Don't let Dougie drive, you know how he gets!"

"I can't believe I fell for that," she says, even after he hangs up on her and she's left staring at her empty screen.

Letting herself be enthralled with how they make pencils, she forgets about Jake and dates until later that evening, when surprise, surprise he texts her.

From: Jake Peralta  
>12:30 AM<br>thx for covering me girl was cray cray

From: Amy Santiago  
>12:32 AM<br>I'm sure you have a thousand ways to ditch a girl. I'm not sure why you needed me.

From: Jake Peralta  
>12:35 AM<br>i kno your not doin anything tonite so i thought id do you a favor and include you im the festivities

She huffs at the statement, however true that first half was and doesn't respond.

An hour later, she's snuggled up under her covers, just about to go to sleep when her phone goes off. She sighs, knowing it's probably Jake, and she really needed to give him his own text tone so she knows when to ignore him.

From: Jake Peralta  
>1:45 AM<br>what am i owing u

Confused for a second, she blinks once, twice, before she remembers that he said "iou". Drunk or sober, those are promises she intends to make him keep.

From: Amy Santiago  
>1:50 AM<br>You'll see on Monday.

From: Jake Peralta  
>1:53 AM<br>your not gonna make me dress up like a girl in high heels are you

The image of him in a halter dress and earrings makes her laugh, enough to go out to the store the next day and purchase a dress and sneaker wedges.

When Jake strolls into the precinct, wobbling on sneaker wedges, wearing a dress (and a tie, too), she doesn't say a word about the IOU to anybody, and instead ridicules him along with the rest of the detectives. Holt takes one step outside of his office to see what the ruckus is about, then steps back in and shuts the door without a word.

iv.

After a long, brutal week with case after case after case, the last place Amy wanted to be was at a bar for Singles Night. She didn't need a theme to remind her that she was eternally single. That's what her mother and many sisters-in-law were for.

But Kylie dragged her out here, and she hadn't seen her in awhile, so she dressed up nice, fixed her hair, and pretended to care about all these inane things the single men were saying.

"My greatest achievement is reaching level 90 on WoW."

"Excuse me?"

"World of Warcraft? It's this massive multiplayer online role playing game and it's..."

"O-kay. I see my friend, and I uh, I have to go."

She sees Kylie and tries to dart her way over, but not before other men throw pick up lines on the way there.

"I'd love to tie you up to my bed," one particularly lewd guy says to her.

She glares at him. "I'm a detective."

"Handcuffs are even better."

She has nothing to say to that that doesn't involve curse words and slinging drinks, so she just says, "You're a pig," and moves on.

The second Amy has Kylie within five feet of her, Kylie of course hooks her arm through some guy's arm, flirting and smiling coyly at him, and leads them out the door.

"No..." Amy says, defeated. Well, if Kylie was going to go get laid, Amy sure as hell wasn't going to stick around here any longer than she had to, so she found her coat and headed out the door.

She's down a few blocks walking to the subway station when she gets a text. Digging into her coat, she prays it's Kylie with a change of heart who's decided to come back and spend the rest of the evening with her very best friend.

Spoiler alert, it's not.

From: Jake Peralta  
>11:37 PM<br>whatcha doin

From: Amy Santiago  
>11:38 PM<br>I'm out on a date. Leave me alone.

From: Jake Peralta  
>11:39 PM<br>rly? cuz u look alone walking by yourself unless youre dating mr. invisible man

She shoots a weary look around the neighborhood, trying to see where Jake was hiding. She turns to her right and sees Jake plastered against the window of a bar, waving enthusiastically at her.

She keeps walking, but isn't surprised to hear sneakers against pavement and a slightly drunk Jake Peralta flinging an arm around her shoulder. She has to steady herself against the nearby pole in order to not falter under the weight of his arm.

"Amy Santiago, what are you doing in these neck of the woods?"

"Nothing."

He looks her up and down, taking in her (new) black dress and the strappy stilettos that Kylie made her wear, and she feels only the slightest bit self-conscious, fighting the urge to close her peacoat tighter against her body.

He lets out a low whistle, well, that's what she thinks is supposed to happen, because his whistle just sounds like a loud breath leaving his body.

"Doesn't look like you were dressed up for nothing. Come on. Let's go inside, I'll buy you a drink."

Her reply of "I don't really want to" is ignored, and she's ushered into the very loud bar filled with a bunch of rowdy men, some of which she's _pretty sure_ she's seen in lockup on more than one occasion.

She is also met with a bunch of catcalls, to which she cringes.

"Hey hey hey, she's a detective and she can kick all of your asses so show her some respect!" Jake yells out, leading her through the crowd and to the bar. She's got no choice but to follow, since really, he's the only one in this bar she feels safe around, and that's really saying something.

He orders them both beers, and when he offers her the bowl of peanuts, she shakes her head. She's watched Mythbusters, she knows all about the kind of germs that is circulating that bowl.

"I'm not... snacky."

He grins at her, that stupid wide mouth grin of his, and clinks his beer bottle against hers.

"Cheers, Santiago."

She takes a swig of beer (and maybe one or two more in quick succession), and places it down next to his on the bar. She eyes the crowd wearily, some of whom are playing darts, pool, or just sitting watching SportsCenter highlights.

"So, Santiago, care to share why you are dressed up and walking all alone at night? If your heels were any higher, I'm pretty sure I could have you arrested for soliciting. Don't hit me. Ow, that hurt."

She glares at him.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I was out with Kylie and she went home with someone else, so I decided to go home."

They sit in silence for a few minutes, each in their own little world until Jake perks up and asks, "Darts?" She figures out it's not a question but a statement, when he drags her by the arm to the the dart board.

He hands her the darts and stares at her expectantly.

"Ladies first."

"How chivalrous of you," she mutters, taking off her peacoat and placing it gently on the nearest stool. She hasn't done this since college, when Kylie and Amy's other roommate dragged her out post an Art History final that she was sure she failed to cheer her up.

(She gets a 98% on the final and she immediately knows exactly which question she bombed.)

Her first dart sails wide right, and when it bounces off a guy twice her height and three times her size, she winces and mutters a "Sorry!" and fights the urge to hide behind Jake. He just chuckles at her and his first throw is just above the dartboard.

Her second attempt hits the board, but doesn't stick and she finds herself frowning, and when she turns, Jake is already looking at her, a silly grin on his face.

"What?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Nothing." He tosses it and it lands in one of the white areas, and when he steps aside to let her have her turn, she's pretty sure she hears "fucking adorable" under his breath, but when she looks at him, he's just looking expectantly at her.

"Focus, Santiago," he says, and she does. She thinks about the bulls-eye and how she kind of hates Kylie for ditching her but kind of doesn't because otherwise there'd be no way in hell she'd be in a bar with Peralta having some fun and she thinks about how she can feel his eyes on her and _does not_ think about the way that makes a shiver run up her back.

She lets go, and...

... does not hit the bulls eye. But it hits a black part, and it sticks, and that's cause enough for celebration. She grins and Jake holds out his hand for a high five, and she's thankful she hits his hand and does not miss.

He lets his third one fly, and it sticks right on the bulls eye, but he shrugs it off when she looks at him in disbelief.

"Ain't no thang."

They go four more rounds (Jake winning 4, Amy winning 1, she suspects it's a pity win but he'll never tell), hogging the dartboard, and order two more rounds of beer before she checks her watch and finds that it's way too late, and even though she's a detective, she _hates_ riding the subway at night.

"I think I'm going to call it a night."

He looks her, a little crinkle forming in between his eyebrows. "You're not gonna ride the subway, are you?"

"No, I was gonna call a cab."

He nods then, finishing off the rest of his beer. "I'll wait with you."

It takes five minutes for one to appear, and she opens the door, and turns to him right before she gets in.

"Thanks, Peralta."

Jake nods and smiles at her, that little shiver making its return up and down her back and spreading to her toes. "Anytime. Have a good night."

They share one last look before the cabbie yells at her to get in, and she does, closing the door.

Later that night, just right before she drifts off to sleep, she gets a text message. How he knows the precise moment she's about to sleep, she'll never know, but she opens his text anyway.

From: Jake Peralta  
>1:58 AM<p>

It's not a text message, but a really short six second video of her hitting (close to the) bulls eye. All she sees is her arms going up and dancing in place, and she hears Jake's bemused chuckle behind the camera. This time, she really does hear, "what a dork," with the most affection she's ever heard in his voice.

She lets that grin that's been tugging at the corner of her mouth sneak onto her face before placing her phone back on her nightstand and trying (unsuccessfully) to go to sleep.

v.

The whole team is out celebrating the closing of a year-long case filled with six murders, three child abductions, and five armed robberies, and they're all just thankful that the gruesome case is solved and the assholes that did it are going to be sitting in prison for many, many lifetimes. Even Rosa with all of her general bleakness toasts, "Thank God it's fucking over," and they all drink to that.

They sit around for a few hours, trading stories from "back in the day" (it's more like Amy trying to coax stories out from Holt), with Sully and Hitchcock bringing up stories that have absolutely nothing to do with the topic at hand. Charles quickly redirects the conversation, but it only holds out for a little while longer before the older ones start heading out, leaving Rosa, Charles, Jake, Amy and Gina by themselves.

Rosa quickly finds some guy to talk to, and Gina takes her martini and moves away from the rest of them, telling them, "'Kay, from here on out, I can't be seen with you losers."

So it's the three of them, and Charles gets easier to talk to, but no less weird once he's had a few drinks in him. His eyes are glassy and his elbow keeps sliding off the table, much to the delight of Jake. Charles starts telling stories about his time on the force pre-99, and then it somehow morphs into what sexual positions he likes, and Amy groans, trying to knock back the rest of her beer so she can wipe that image from her brain permanently.

"Oh Charles, it's probably time to get you home."

"Okay, whatever you say Prraalta."

Rosa appears out of nowhere, grabbing Charles by the elbow and yanking him up. "I got him."

Jake looks back and forth between Rosa and Charles. "Well, okay, but don't murder him."

"Look at me. Would I ever do such a thing?"

Jake and Amy share a glance and a second-too-long hesitation before Rosa rolls her eyes.

"He'll be fine."

Then they're out the door, leaving Jake and Amy alone. She's not drunk, not really, and she's only had two beers, and she knows for a fact that it takes more than that to tip her over into drunk territory, but she still feels a little jumpy around him.

"Would you rather trust Rosa or Gina to take you home?" Jake asks, turning his attention onto her.

She ponders that, and then answers, "I'm pretty sure they would both murder me in a heartbeat, but Rosa, I think."

"Really? I'd take Gina in a heartbeat."

"Really? Because I feel that -"

"Excuse me?" they both look up to see a _really_ handsome guy looking down at her, and she kind of forgets how to speak for just a split second.

"Yup? Yes, I mean?" She winces, but recovers with a smile in time.

Jake kicks her under the table and she nudges him with the toe of her work heels without breaking eye contact with Mr. Handsome.

"I was wondering if I could buy you a drink. Unless you two are..."

"NO, no, no, no, no. We're not together, no. No, no, no."

She hears Jake mutter, "Wow, nine no's," and she ignores him and gets up from the table and follows him to the bar. "You could totally buy me a drink."

"Go get 'em, tiger," Jake calls after her and she frowns at him before turning her attention back to the date.

She talks with Mr. Handsome - Adam, as he likes to be called - and has a drink with him, and is still acutely aware that Jake has not left the bar just yet. It's mainly because she can hear his loud voice from all the way across the bar, knocking back beer after beer. So when Adam offers to take her home with the promise of coffee in the morning, she says yes, and goes to the bathroom to try to look a little more presentable.

_Ding ding_. She rolls her eyes and looks at her phone.

"What now, Jake?" she mutters, swiping her phone to look at the message.

From: Jake Peralta  
>12:05 AM<br>Abort mission, i repeat, abort mission. ran his name through the database. turns out, he's been arrested for three counts of bestiality. three, amy. that's three too many.

From: Amy Santiago  
>12:06 AM<br>Stop lying to me, Peralta.

From: Jake Peralta  
>12:07 AM<br>alright, but you asked for it. prepare to be amazed

From: Jake Peralta  
>12:07 AM<p>

Attached is a mugshot of - sure enough - Adam, with the funniest looking mustache she's ever seen in her life.

She chuckles, then catches herself.

"God damn it," she says to herself in the mirror, as she tries to hatch an escape plan from the bathroom.

From: Jake Peralta  
>12:15 AM<br>he left you dork. you can come out of hiding.

She still leaves the restroom weary until she makes sure there's no sign of Adam anywhere. Jake meets her at the door, holding out her coat for her.

"How'd you run his name so quickly? And legally?"

Jake scoffs. "Please. I'm a detective. It's my job."

She rolls her eyes and stands on the sidewalk, hailing a cab. She looks back at him. "Wanna share?"

Jake shakes his head and nods down the street. "I drove here. I'm gonna sober up for a little at the bar then go home in a little bit."

"Okay. Well." She looks down at her shoes before looking at him. "Thanks for looking out."

"Anytime," he says, and he looks at her with this sincere look that has the power to make her look away.

He closes the cab door behind her and taps it twice, signaling the driver to leave.

She gets a text message from him later that evening:

From: Jake Peralta  
>1:43 AM<p>

It's not a text, but a picture of him, with a fake mustache similar to Adam's mustache and a stuffed kitty, and she kind of groans, but still manages to laugh.

Damn it, Peralta.

vi.

Through all the drunk text messages he's sent her throughout the years of their partnership, she never mentions the sweet ones. She shares the ones that she's sure would embarrass him and delight their colleagues, but she never brings up the ones that make her smile, and he doesn't either. She's not sure if it's because he doesn't remember it or he just doesn't want to bring it up, but either way it all goes unspoken.

Until it doesn't.

It happens when Amy gets a heavy card-stock envelope with fancy script embossed on the front. She knows that it's a wedding invitation, but when she opens it up and sees her ex-boyfriend's name on the invitation, she tosses it in the wastebasket and immediately calls Kylie.

"What's up?"

"He's getting married." She even sound somber to her own ears, so she tries to perk herself back up. "I don't care or anything. But he invited me. I mean, who does that?"

"Tacky people do." Amy hears click-clacking in the background before Kylie speaks again. "Well, she's ugly, so no need to worry about all that." When Amy doesn't respond, Kylie barrels on. "You need to get drunk, get laid, and forget all about him. Let's go out tonight."

"Tonight?" She frowns, looking at her calendar. "I had plans."

"Watching TV and drinking wine isn't a plan. It's sad."

"Not for Olivia Pope..."

"Olivia who? You know what I don't care. You clearly need to drown your sorrows, and you need to do it right now." Kylie has that, "do as I say right now or I'm coming over there to do it for you" tone in her voice, so Amy agrees, and they make plans to meet at a bar a couple blocks away.

Amy does her best to look presentable and hot, wearing her favorite pink dress and a new red lipstick.

Kylie's already there, two shots to the wind it looks like, and when she sees Amy, she whistles.

"If I swung the other way, I'd totally do you."

"Comforting thought," Amy replies and knocks back the shot Kylie hands her.

Kylie turns around and drags the nearest guy over to them. "Have you met my friend Amy? She's single and hot."

The guy is tall, handsome and has a killer smile (but still doesn't have the wide mouth smile she kind of adores) but she smiles back and introduces herself.

"Nice to meet you Amy, I'm Jake."

She kind of chokes back her spit, but shakes her head. Jake is a super popular name, Amy. Get him out of your head.

"Hi Jake, so what do you do?"

They get to know each other over more drinks, and it's sort of frightening to see how similar they are. He's a cop, is organized (she knows this because when he runs off to the bathroom and leaves his phone behind, she sneaks a peek at his calendar), and loves art history and people pleasing.

"My partner just doesn't get it," Jake's saying as he orders them a round of shots. "She's very messy and unorganized, and I don't even know how she lives with herself, honestly."

It's all getting a little weird for her, so she knocks back the shot to try take more of the edge off. "I have a partner who's the same way."

"He must drive you bananas, because Mya.. oh God. She doesn't follow any of the rules, she's kind of childish, but..."

"She still is a good cop?"

Jake sighs, running his hand through his short, non-messy hair. "She's one of the best."

She orders another shot because god, she knows that feeling, and how crazy it drives her, and she's no longer thinking about her ex-boyfriend and the wedding (she hasn't really cared since the first drink), but she's thinking about her own Jake.

Kylie appears out of nowhere, taking Amy up by the elbow. "I'm just going to borrow her for just a sec, Jake."

"Sure. She's all yours," he says as he takes out his phone and plays around with it.

"What's wrong? He seems perfectly fine." Kylie gives her a weird look, then rolls her eyes.

"He's been talking about his partner the entire night. And I'm pretty sure he's texting her right now."

"No, we were talking about our partners for like five minutes."

"Then you zoned out, thinking about something else while he kept yammering about his partner. He's not worth it. Let's move on."

"But I didn't say -"

"Ah, ah, ah. The point of this evening was to get you drunk and laid, not to find some guy who's exactly like you who's crazy about someone else. Now, let's get you drunker."

Kylie orders more shots for the two of them, and she's pretty sure she's at shot number 3 when she realizes just how drunk she really is. She finds herself a seat in the corner of the bar, waiting for Kylie to come out of the bathroom when she busts out her phone.

She's idly tapping buttons before she hears the familiar _whoosh_ of a sent text message. She squints as she tries to read what she texted.

From: Amy Santiago  
>1:30 AM<br>hiiiiiiiiiii i found ypr oppspite at the bar

Oh, she was going to regret that in the morning.

_Ding ding_.

From: Jake Peralta  
>1:31 AM<br>Are you drunk?

From: Amy Santiago  
>1:31 AM<br>are you using proper punctaiton

From: Jake Peralta  
>1:32 AM<br>this is officially the best night ever. where are you?

From: Amy Santiago  
>1:33 AM<br>macatees bar by my place

From: Jake Peralta  
>1:35 AM<br>i gotta see this.

Kylie appears then, offering Amy a water bottle.

"Drink this," she says, but then eyes the cell phone curiously.

"Who are you texting?"

"No one."

"It better not be Michael," with Michael being the ex-boyfriend the whole point of this evening was about.

"'Snot."

Kylie strikes up a conversation with some girls at the table next to them, and she's propping up her elbow on the table and leaning her head against her fist, when she feels a presence right next to her.

"Santiago, as I live and breathe," and she turns and there's Jake, and before she can stop herself, she's flinging her arms around him, giving him a hug.

"Jake!"

"Oof," he says as he returns it sloppily, and she has this feeling she's gonna remember that hand on her hip for a long while. He steps back and takes a look at her. "Yup, you really are drunk. I thought I'd never see the day. Smile!"

Before she knows it, he's taking a selfie with her, with her drunk grin and that wide smile of his.

Kylie sidles up next to Amy and gives Jake the once over.

"Is this _Jake_?"

"Yeah, my partner. This is Kylie," Amy hiccups but soldiers on. "She's responsible for me."

"Oh your partner," Kylie responds, and if Amy was sober, she'd notice the mischievous little twinkle in Kylie's eyes and would do something to stop her. But she's not, so she doesn't.

"Is he the one that drunk texts you and tells you nice things but doesn't say them in person?"

"Huh?" he says at the same time she says "Uh huh."

"Interesting."

He's looking at Amy with a little raised eyebrow, but she ignores it and takes a sip from her water bottle. She can feel herself getting sleepy, and when she actually feels herself nod off, Jake's got her by the elbow, helping her off the stool.

"I'll take you home."

"Wabbout Kylie?" Amy asks, pointing in her direction, but Kylie just waves her off.

When they get outside, it's cold, and her thin coat isn't enough, so she links her arm through Jake's to get some of his body heat.

"You're always warm," she tells him, as she rests her head against his arm.

"Good to know I'm good for something."

"You're good at many things, Peralta."

They begin the short walk to her apartment (that was the advantage of picking a bar by her place), mostly in silence on her part, while Jake yammers on about how his night was going until she texted him.

"Drunk texts from Amy. Never thought I'd see the day. Speaking of, what did Kylie mean about telling you nice things over text?"

Again, if she was sober, here would be the part where she would pause, try to figure out how to respond to that, and then lie. But since she's drunk, what comes out is:

"You tell me I'm pretty, and you miss me, and you calling me a dork, but in a nice way, and then you're just really sweet, but of course you're drunk so you don't remember or you don't bring it up, and either way I take my cues from you so I don't bring them up either."

"What?" He asks, and she's pretty sure she said all of that in one breath, and they're at her door now, so she fiddles in her clutch for her keys and opens her door, kicking off her heels and placing them neatly by the entrance. She takes out her phone and squints at it, taps a few buttons then brings up the text messages.

"You text me nice things." He looks at it and flips through them quickly. "I don't expect you to remember any of this, but I always tell Kylie everything so she knows."

"Ah, I see," he says, and then hands her phone back to her, and she feels something like rejection weighing in her heart, but she tries to ignore it and nods at the door.

"Thanks for seeing me home. I'll see you in a few days."

"Night, Santiago. Lock up."

She does and then stumbles to her room, awake enough to change into pajamas and take out her contacts, then knocks out on her bed in one minute flat.

She spends the next day nursing the hangover from hell, trying not to think of all the stupid things she said, showed, and texted and drowns herself in a Real Housewives of NYC marathon.

It's the following morning that brings the surprise in the form of one silly looking Jake Peralta.

"Hi?"

"Amy! So good to see you alive and sober." He pushes his way past her and makes himself comfortable on her couch.

She follows him back slowly to the couch, wondering what the hell he's doing here.

"You're probably wondering what I'm doing here."

She's a little startled, but she tries to play it off. "Not really."

"But before I answer your questions, I feel like fair is fair if I get to ask you some of my own."

She eyes him wearily, mentally cataloging every thing about that night that he could possibly have questions about and coming up with stock answers. Way to be prepared, Amy.

"O-kay."

"So who's this polar opposite at the bar?"

Ah, she can do this one. "I met this guy. His name was Jake, he was a cop and he was... well he's exactly like me. Organized, art history lovers, had partners who drove us crazy, that whole deal."

"And you didn't go home with him because..."

Because being with someone exactly like her is boring.

"Because... just because."

"O-kay."

"So why are you here?" she asks, after what feels like twenty minutes of silence.

He clears his throat, and she waits for him to speak.

"It might have occurred to me that you feel like I don't mean those things I text you, drunk or not. And I do. You _are_ gorgeous, you _are _a dork, and I like entertaining you."

"So what are you trying to say?" Amy asks, ignoring the way her heart is speeding up.

"That I like you. And I'm a little immature, because the only way I can really say it is through text messages and stupid pictures, but I like you." She kind of just sits there, this goofy little grin on her face, and he looks at her, slightly confused.

"What?"

"I knew it!"

"No you didn't, I was completely subtle about everything."

"You liiiiiiiiike me. You wanna daaaaaaaaaaate me."

"I didn't say anything about dating you."

That shuts her right up, because well, he didn't. He said nothing about wanting to date her, just that he liked her, and oh God, she's so stupid, and _click_.

She looks at him from her daze and notice he's grinning behind his iPhone.

"Oh, if you could see the look on your face. Oh wait, you can!" he says, showing her the picture. She takes one of her pillows and tosses it as his face.

"You're mean."

"You like me, too."

"I said no such thing."

"You didn't, but I'd still like to take you out to dinner tonight. Anywhere you want. My treat. But you know, keep it reasonable. I've still got debt you know."

They end up staying on her couch for the rest of the afternoon, watching made-for-television movies and snacking on Red Vines and when he brings up dinner, she just mentions Thai food from the restaurant around the corner, and they order take out.

It's actually one of the best dates of her life, but she doesn't admit that to him until 2:10 AM two months later in a sober text, to which he sends a picture of himself, his fist in the air.


End file.
